You Left This
by Kodou Kikoeru
Summary: A story about Goten, Bra, Trunks, and Marron finding out about love. AU, and may contain any combination of the above four as a couple, if you must be warned. From Goten's POV.


Hello, everyone. Deciding to be a bit of a review whore, I have decided to write another longer-than-one-chapter story. Same rules apply as last time (no holds barred, any pairings I want, etc.), except this time I'm going to restrain myself to a "Teen" rating.

And once again, since I think of pretty much any warnings as spoilers to the story (e.g., "Naruto and Sasuke get together in the end! Don't worry!" or "What will happen? Contains Riku death."), I won't put any. I will say that this may contain situations that fall under the category of shounen ai, shoujo ai, or het. I will also say that this is an Alternate Universe fic, mostly done with these characters because of the exposure. (Just being honest.)

And, as long as we're being honest, I'm writing this _mostly _because I like reviews. So please keep them coming. I have this entire story planned out, but if there's no public interest, I could keep the rest to myself.

As a disclaimer, I do not own any part of Dragonball or Dragonball Z.

---------------------------

As a typical group of bitter college students on a typical Valentine's Day, Trunks, Marron, and I commiserated with each other over a bottle of vodka and Trunks's mom's karaoke machine. Bra, Trunks's sister and a high school senior, decided to join us as well, sitting across the room from Marron and me while Trunks "sang his pain away" (his words, not mine). None of us really resented being single, but we were always eager for an excuse to celebrate, and "Singles' Awareness Day," as it was called, was as good a reason as any.

When drinking, even lightly, Trunks was the most likely to showcase the effects. Cheeks tinged with pink from the first sip, by the end of his first drink, it was not uncommon to see him dancing unabashedly or singing loudly. His lilac hair, usually neatly combed, was invariably mussed beyond recognition within ten minutes. The change was always so sudden and drastic, I often wondered whether he simply claimed a low tolerance for alcohol so that he could behave like this without repressing himself.

It didn't matter to me; I took it as an excuse to watch Trunks for extended periods of time without being questioned.

When we were young, I took watching him for granted. It seemed that as my desire to look at him increased, however, my ability to look at him without creating an awkward moment decreased. I stole glances from time to time whenever I could, but never for too long. Even while he was drunk, I always felt self-conscious and looked away when our eyes met.

I noticed becoming attracted to Trunks early on in our high school careers. I couldn't tell you a specific date or event that led to it; it was likely the result of a lifetime together. It was slowly becoming harder and harder to be around him, which I hated. I wished that, since having a romantic relationship was impossible, I would get over my silly little crush and we could still be friends.

For the third year in a row, I threw away the flowers and card I made out for him for Valentine's Day.

The end of Trunks's song was met with lazy applause and, because of Marron's decision to alternate boy/girl, she was next in line. Trunks flopped down next to me on the couch in the spot where Marron was sitting and reached his hand into the small dish full of candy hearts on the corner table. Pulling out a few, he examined a white one and then placed it gently on my upper thigh. Picking it up, I read "#1 Fan." I gave an audible "Aw," and, instead of eating it, decided to slip the candy casually into my jeans pocket. I looked over at Bra, who appeared to quickly change her gaze from me to Marron, halfway through her song.

Bra was certainly an interesting girl. The same expressive blue eyes as her brother, and straight, green hair usually kept in a sensible ponytail, she was only two years younger than I am, but there was always this invisible age barrier between us, probably caused by the fact that Trunks and I have always been so close. At this point, however, it was rapidly becoming unfair for me to claim she was too young for anything. Right under my nose, she had grown into a young woman and, especially once the high school / college barrier had been removed, I would have no more excuses.

And that was okay. As I said, Bra was an interesting girl.

Trunks poked me in the shoulder. I turned to see him with a pair of pink candy hearts in his eyes.

"You're so drunk, Trunks," I said in a tone of mock-reproof.

He bent down to allow the candies to fall into his hand and ate them immediately, chewing with a smile that seemed to try to conceal his pride.

Marron's song ended with a very long note, and so the little applause we gave was actually over by the time she finished singing. She silently walked up to me and handed me the microphone.

Walking up to the mini-stage, raised maybe eight inches above the floor, I chose a song. I don't really remember any of the songs anyone chose that night, but I remember that the theme was love songs, and that someone chose "Bizarre Love Triangle," because we had an argument about the lyrics. Anyway, I chose _something_, and sang it, and was met with the same enthusiastic applause as the rest.

Afterwards, though, as Bra took my place on the stage and I took her seat, I glanced over at Marron. Marron was what I would call a "traditional beauty": long, blonde hair, and a beautiful figure. Her unobtrusive nose gave way to equally subtle brown eyes, leaving room for a mouth that wouldn't shut up, except for when she was tipsy. Playing the foil to Trunks, Marron was very talky until she had alcohol in her, when she would tend to be more reserved.

Trunks chose a yellow candy heart and handed it to her, and Marron blushed in response and slipped the candy into her mouth. Whether it was the five or six drinks in my system or seeing what I took as a hint of chemistry between them as they sat on the love seat (from what was Bra's vantage point, it was clearly not a couch but a love seat), I suddenly felt simultaneously upset and a little ill, and, standing up (maybe a little too quickly) I moved toward the door.

I noticed Bra's eyes follow me first, though she continued singing. The creak of the door was enough to turn Trunks's and Marron's heads.

"What's up, Goten?" Trunks was the first to ask, as Bra looked impatiently at the screen for the song to end.

"Nothing, I'm just not feeling too good," I said, redundantly holding my stomach. "Sorry to leave so early, but have a good night."

"All right,... happy Singles' Awareness Day," Trunks said, the three of them waving goodbye.

"You too," I waved back, closing the door behind me. I wondered whether it was a good idea to leave Trunks alone with Marron, but shrugged it off as nothing could be done about it now, and I walked out onto the cold night streets.

Although neither Marron nor Trunks had voiced any real interest in the other, I got jealous easily. It was never a trait of which I was particularly proud, but we can't choose such things.

I looked down at a puddle on the side of the street and saw my reflection lit by the streetlight above my head. Speaking of things one cannot choose...

I wouldn't say I wasn't attractive, in some way, but, even at twenty, I retained this pudginess about my face that I've had since I was a child, and that my ex-girlfriend said made me look "cute." Most of the time I didn't mind, but I occasionally fear that it keeps me from being taken seriously. Shocks of black hair fell loosely about my face as I looked down into the puddle, and I raked them back into place.

I continued to walk through town, taking the "long way home." Our town was very sensitive to the seasons and holidays, and so the streets were littered with pink, white, and red paper hearts from the Valentine's Day parade earlier. Signs bearing pictures of Cupid and the cursive letters "Happy Valentine's Day!" fluttered in the light breeze, and several pink-and-white booths were still operating, pushing what's left of their merchandise, almost all of it pink and heart-shaped, and of little use to anyone come February 15.

Having no plans, plenty of alcohol in my system (but not so much that I showed it), and not a hint of sleepiness, I walked around and poked some stuffed animals in each of the booths. The vendors' reactions varied, some were annoyed that I was playing with their merchandise and not buying it, while others were thrilled that I was at their booth at all.

Squeezing the paw of a pastel-blue stuffed kitten and almost considering buying it (mind, I did have a bit to drink), there was a glint of something shiny to my left. Turning, I saw an elaborately decorated fake gypsy tent, beige, and complete with hanging silver beads and what looked like the tinsel one would wrap around a Christmas tree. Surrounded by what I would consider magic-shop standard, there stood a woman, dressed in gypsy garb, the same beige as the tent, and makeup that looked like it was purchased from a Hallowe'en magazine.

Drawn by the contrast to stuffed animals, and perhaps also by the shininess, I explored the new tent, while the faux-gypsy kept completely still. I looked around a little at the various knickknacks that adorned the shelves until I came across the reason the tent was up tonight in the first place: love potions. In small, clear, heart-shaped vials resembling cheap cologne bottles, there was a pale, pink liquid, and on each of the vials was a small piece of masking tape, with "love potion" written in blue ink.

"_In_terested?" the faux-gypsy asked in a deep voice, sure to put emphasis on the first syllable she had spoken in hours. I gave a start and almost dropped the vial I was examining as the previously comatose woman decided to become involved, although her head still refused to move from its fixed position.

Regaining my senses, I asked, "What's in it?"

"The ingredients of the love potion are top secret," she replied in the same deep, dramatic voice.

I gave a smirk and said, "I just want to know, y'know, if it's strawberry, or cherry, or..."

Finally turning her head, she said, "You think it is not real?"

"Well,... sure, I think it's real," I say, deciding, in my state, to play a game.

"You do _not_. You do not believe."

"Look, I just said I do. How much?"  
"Twenty-two ninety-five."

"Twenty-two ninety-five? For this?"  
"It's a bargain!" she protested. "You could put a lower price on having the one you love love you back?"

"But, ... I mean,... " I stammered and my mind, as I'm sure she wanted it to, drifted toward Trunks.

"Hmm?" she asked.

I look at the bottle, small enough to fit into the palm of my hand. "...And it works?"  
"But of course! I wouldn't sell it if it didn't work! However, ...," she said, turning away, and clearly waiting for me to ask for her to continue.

I bit. "However?"

"I should warn you that its effects only last for one moon-cycle."

"Month," I corrected.

"Month," she repeated.

"Well, ... " I began, still trying to satisfy my curiosity while simultaneously avoiding the temptation of buying the stuff, "who takes it?"

"The person wanting to be loved, who, I take it,... is you?"

I nodded hesitantly.

She continued, "And from there, for whomever you feel romantic love, likewise for you shall they feel."

"For a month," I added.

"For a month," she repeated.

"Well, ..." I began again, curiosity not quite satisfied. "How do I know this isn't poisonous? Or that I'm not allergic to it or something?"

"While I suppose I can't guarantee that you are not allergic to any of the ingredients, the potion has no universal poisons."

"But what if I don't believe you?"

"You don't have to."

I considered this display of what I took as frank honesty and, deducting the $12.99 I would have paid for the stuffed blue kitten, I argued to myself that $10 is a reasonable price to give it a shot.

I gave her the money and slipped the vial into my jeans pocket, where it fell against the white candy heart I got earlier.

"By the way, I suggest mixing it with something sweet. It's pretty bitter," she adds, conveniently after the purchase.

"Right, thanks," I reply, leaving the tent and walking back home, where the alcohol had me asleep on the bed before I even undressed.

---------------------------

End Chapter 1.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review!


End file.
